


Ten minutes

by LilyaValkov



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, Pilgrimage (2017), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Punisher (TV 2017), The Walking Dead RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 12:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyaValkov/pseuds/LilyaValkov
Summary: Jon covered his face with his hands and growled, furious with himself and the absurd ideas he thought he had buried. When he found out that he would work again with Tom Holland, he feared this would happen.





	Ten minutes

**Author's Note:**

> Well, English isn't my first language, so you are going to find mistakes.

Jon grunted, dropping into one of the chairs in his trailer and leaning back his body. With his eyes fixed on the ceiling, he began to breathe deeply and conscientiously, feeling how with each exhalation the tremble of his body and the hardness between his legs faded. A crimson tinge crossed his cheeks, the product of shame and arousal. Mentally, he reproduced the scene they had just filmed, the sensations, and the effort it took for him to stick to the script. He covered his face with his hands and growled, furious with himself and the absurd ideas thought he had buried.

When he found out that he would work again with Tom Holland, he feared this would happen, then read the script, studied the interactions and relaxed. Nothing written there favored a tension like the one generated between them during the filming of Pilgrimage. There was something suggestive in Diarmuid's relationship with the Mute, a platonic affection that holds certain sexual connotation, and that had put inappropriate ideas in his head. Never a job had cost him as much energy like that one, until now.

He visualized Tom's face enraged, the glassy eyes, the firm line of his lips to contain the cry of impotence. The script indicated that he should not be moved, that he should stay indifferent to what the child had to say to him, the father who did not want to be. Bernthal needed all his will to contain the impulse to hold him, to kiss his cheeks, his eyelids. Caress him... He cleared his throat. His cock was swollen again, the blood rushing towards the middle part of his body to form a bulge impossible to cover. He took a swig of water, resigned. He could wait for the erection to go down, but at any moment one of the assistants would knock on the door of his trailer to resume the filming. Instead, jacking off would not take more than a few minutes, as worked up as it was.

He settled into place, unbuckled his belt and unfastened the front of the jeans, hips lifting to remove it along with his underwear, but only enough to discover his dick and testicles. Jon cup his balls, sensing its rough texture and the weight of his arousal. He bit his lower lip. When he finally circled the base of his prick with his fingers, it occurred to him that Tom's would be softer. Strong, but definitely softer. No calluses due to the use of dumbbells. He collected saliva in his mouth and let it slide in a thick thread over the head of his cock; spread it with the palm of his hand, wetting the shaft in all its extension. He drew a circle on the glans and formed a tunnel that could penetrate with a fluid movement, slowly. He exhaled a moan that filled the room.

Startled, Bernthal opened his eyes and stopped for a few seconds to listen carefully, holding his breath, but no sound reached the inside of his trailer. He laughed to himself, feeling ridiculous for being alert as a teenager. So, relaxing in the seat, he bites a portion of the neck of his shirt to muffle any noise he might make.

Still hard as a rock, Jon moistened his hand again to resume the strokes with an even more vicious grip. He gasped, imagining Holland's urgent expression, kneeling between his legs and asking him to fuck his face. He wanted to feel the head of his cock hitting the back of his throat, taking his breath away... He closed his eyes tightly, hurrying the movement of his hand. The black cotton fabric that filled his mouth was soaked. He felt the heat like lava swirling in his stomach, his ass twitching for attention, but before he could do anything about it, someone knocked on his door and Tom's voice calling his name made him explode.

-Jon?

He barely managed to cover his dick with his left hand to contain the outburst.

-One minute.

He answered in a strangled voice, as he stood up to look for something to clean himself with. He decided there was no point in returning to the set with the shirt he was wearing, considering the dark wet stain on his chest. He rubbed his palms on it and took it off, throwing it into a corner carelessly. He zipped up his pants and hurried to open the door.

Holland was waiting for him, rocking on his heels to the rhythm of a song that hummed under his breath. When he saw Jon, the boy smiled and pocketed his phone to focus all his attention on the older one. As he did so, he noticed the agitated breathing, the thin layer of sweat on Bernthal's forehead and naked torso, his jeans still unbuttoned.

-They asked me to let you know that we continue in 10 minutes.

The man nodded, disappeared for a moment and came back wearing a lumberjack shirt, adjusting his belt and apologizing for the waiting. Tom shrugged off and started walking towards the set, anticipating the weight of a hug on his shoulders and the heat that Jon's body radiated permanently. Also, he perceived an intoxicating and unmistakable musky scent that filled his senses.


End file.
